


A New Hope

by wesawbears



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 10:47:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17785949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wesawbears/pseuds/wesawbears
Summary: Here is a collection of my shorter Theonsa works transferred in from Tumblr (those that are less than 500 words.)





	1. Sugar and Namedays

Sansa wakes on her name day and at first, nothing seems different from any other day. Until she reaches to the other side of the bed and finds her husband missing.

She frowns and shivers her way out of bed, pulling her robe on and try to find him, hoping he didn’t wander off because of a nightmare. It isn’t proper for her to wander about in just this, but she figures it’s her name day and if anyone has a problem, they can take it up with her.

She follows her senses to the kitchen, where she can smell sugar and bread. She enters and finds a truly obscene number of lemon cakes and-

“Theon?”

He looks up and for a moment seems abashed. “My lady. I didn’t think you would wake so early.”

She walks over and runs her finger through some sugar. “Since when do you know how to make lemon cakes?”

He looks down at that and seems to blush, though it’s hard to tell in the dim light. “I bribed the cook to teach me. So I could do something for you.”

She smiles and leans forward to kiss him slowly. She pulls back and reaches for a lemon cake. “Well, I will certainly need help eating them. Shall we?”

His mouth twitches in a ghost of a smile. “Of course, my lady.”


	2. Beauty and Knights

Sansa is beautiful.

She’s a lot of other things, obviously, smart and strong and stubborn, but all of those things just make her more beautiful.

And make Theon feel even more unworthy.

For whatever reason, she keeps him around, and usually he’s too happy to ask why. But tonight, with her head on his chest and his hand running through her hair, he says, “Are you disappointed? To be married to me?”

She sits up and the crease in her brow appears. “No. Why would I be?”

“I seem to recall you wishing you would marry a handsome knight.”

“I have.”

He scoffs. “I’m no knight.”

“But you are handsome.”

He pauses. “Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not.” She cups his jaw, so gently he wants to look away. But he won’t. Not from her.

“I’m not laughing. I think you’re beautiful.”

He sits in silence, but offers no rebuttal. “Why would you say that?”

She kisses the corner of his lips quickly before laying back down. “Because one day, you’ll believe me.”


	3. Dreams and Nightmares

Theon doesn’t sleep much anymore. He’ll catch a few hours here and there, but overall he uses the time to shut out the world. Sometimes he’ll take a walk if the thoughts are too much.

He’s on one such walk when he passes by Sansa’s room and hears small, frightened cries. He knows those sounds, knows what she’s likely remembering and is stuck at war with himself. Rationally, he knows that she’s his wife and he’s now than within his rights to enter. But he also doesn’t know what help he could possibly be to her, when he’s let her down so many times before.

Still, the thought of leaving her there alone makes it clear he won’t be able to rest, so he hesitantly knocks until he hears her sit up. He waits in the doorway not wanting to startle her further, knowing what being touched after those dreams feels like.

“T-Theon?” she asks, trying to smooth the mask she wears back on.

“My lady,” he says, courage faltering, “you were screaming.”

“Did I wake you?”

“No, my lady. I just-wanted to see if you were alright.” The words sound unhelpful to his ears and he curses himself. “I’ll leave you.”

“Wait,” he hears and turns back to see her biting her lip, as though she can’t believe what she’s saying. “Stay?”

He freezes for a moment, but she looks too vulnerable and he will not leave her again. He made that promise.

He sits on the bed near her and when he pulls her in the way he did in the snow years ago, she melts against him. He holds her until she falls asleep and even then he fears every movement might wake her.

He holds her and hopes that once, just once, he can have something to keep.


	4. Mirrors and Hairbrushes

Sansa runs a brush through her hair, preparing to braid it before she sleeps. Normally a handmaiden would do this for her, but as of late she prefers to have as few people as possible attend her.

The one recent addition to her bedchamber is her husband. Theon had kept his own room for the first few months of their marriage, but they had begun taking tentative steps to bridge the gap between them. She had admitted to him once that the nightmares were less frequent when she was with him, and he confessed the same.

She finds herself at the hands of a stubborn knot and is becoming frustrated when she hears, “May I?”

She turns, surprised. “You’re not a servant,” she says, hesitantly. “You don’t have to brush my hair.”

“I want to,” he says, so quietly she’s sure she misheard. But then the brush is out of her hands and he’s working through her hair so gently she might cry.

He has to concentrate and holding the brush is a bit difficult, but he says he finds it comforting. “It’s pretty. And soft.”

She smiles at the sweet words and catches a glimpse of his face in the mirror. They could be happy together, she thinks.


	5. Pet Names and Happy Accidents

It slips out by accident. They’re not even talking, just sitting in the same room while Sansa fusses over some letters and Theon…watches her, he supposes. The fact that she wants him around and even more, that she wants him around just for his own sake will never make sense, but he certainly won’t complain.

Still, he watches her brow furrow slightly and he doesn’t catch himself before the, “Everything alright, love?” slips out.

She looks up and his eyes widen, prepared to take it back. Her mouth settles into a startled ‘O’ and…she blushes? He can’t quite tell in the light.

After a long moment, she manages to say, in as dignified a tone as she can muster, “I am fine, my…Theon. Thank you.”

He nods and turns away, shocked enough thst he said anything. In his haste to turn away, he doesn’t notice her looking back at him the same way.


	6. Beginnings and Remembrances

Sansa swirls a small plastic straw through the cup of tea in her hands and takes a sip, though the water scalds her tongue. There are worse things, she thinks to herself.

For instance, sitting in the waiting room of a therapist's office with no idea what to expect. Her brother Jon had offered to go with her, but his awkward attempts to talk about it would only make her feel worse. She would rather do this alone.

She takes a seat and across from her is a man, just a bit older than her, fidgeting. His hands are hidden by heavy gloves and he looks nervous, but when he looks up, his eyes send such a bolt of recognition through her that she almost drops her tea.

“I’m sorry-” she finds herself speaking before she can think better of it- “have we met?”

He looks surprised, as though speaking to strangers in a waiting room is an odd thing, but eventually says, “I don’t think so? But, my memory isn’t what it was, so we might have.”

She nods, only slightly embarrassed. “You look familiar is all.”

They make small talk until Sansa is called back and for the first time in their short acquaintance, he smiles.

“Sansa. Unusual name.”

She flushes. “It’s a family name.”

He raises his hands defensively. “I get it. Mine’s Theon. I just thought it was funny, is all.”

She smiles. “An odd pair we make, I suppose,” she says, standing.

He offers her a sarcastic salute. “Good luck, my lady.”


	7. Details and Decisions

Sansa and Theon have been married a year, but sharing a bed is still new, the latest in a long series of hesitant steps forward as they both learn how to live in a world no longer at war. It’s slow progress, but Theon said yes to her proposal for a reason and they’ve been steadily growing together.

She’s drowsy enough at this point that she barely registers her hand reaching out to brush a lock of hair behind his ear. He doesn’t flinch, but looks at her confused.

With a flush, she answers his unspoken question. “Your hair is longer.”

“Is it?” he asks. He doesn’t look in mirrors and rarely pays attention to these things.

She nods and hesitates a moment before saying, “…I like it.”

He raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t answer right away, instead opting to kiss her palm where it still rests on his cheek.

“Thank you, my lady,” he says at last, so softly she worries she’s imagined it. From anyone else, “my lady” feels cold and formal, but from him it feels like an endlessly charming endearment.

She kisses his cheek in answer and leaves it at that. One day, she hopes he’ll believe her that he is worth complimenting. Until then, she can believe enough for the both of them.


	8. Walking and Wondering

The war is over and Sansa is standing at the edge of a castle that isn’t hers and thinking about how she doesn’t know how to go home.

Winterfell is hers now. It’s hers and yet she still feels lost and as though one foot will make her lose her grip. She’s been here, unable to move one inch out of line for what feels like her whole life.

“Oh-my lady. Forgive me. Is everything alright?”

She looks up and sees, of all people, Theon, looking at her much the way he did at Winterfell, before they jumped.

It feels like that.

“I’m…well.”

He nods. “I’m glad to see it.”

“I heard you fought bravely in taking back King’s Landing.”

He pauses and shakes his head. “I did what anyone would have done.”

“But it wasn’t anyone. It was you.”

“My lady?”

She doesn’t know what it is that’s compelling her to act this way. But then again, perhaps this unmoored feeling is what it’s like to be in control again. To feel. She hasn’t felt that way in a long time.

So she takes a leap of faith.

“Walk with me?”

He takes her arm.


End file.
